


The Last Time

by Alltheshrinks



Series: Infidelity Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alltheshrinks/pseuds/Alltheshrinks
Summary: Based on the song by the Script, The Last Time. If you are unfamiliar with it, I suggest you look it up.
Relationships: Jared Padalecki/others., Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Others
Series: Infidelity Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886815
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> All of these verses are stand alone and can be read separately, though it is helpful to read the others. The only thing you need to know is that J2 are married to other people, but have had an on again, off again relationship for almost their entire adult life.
> 
> Comments make me insanely happy, I love engaging with all of you. Follow me over on Twitter @tltm78

Jared opens the mailbox at the end of his driveway, the cul de sac that he and Jake live in is quiet, it is a nice neighborhood. His oldest son, five-year-old Kai, is bouncing a basketball on the perfectcement in front of the home, a portable goal wheeled out. 

It is a gorgeous day, eleven-month-old Eli, is puttering around in his walker inside the garage, his stubby little legs going a mile a minute, only surpassed by the constant jabber of baby talk that never seems to stop.

Jared looks through the stacks of letters in his hand, smiling to himself at his son's babble as he sits on a step. Bill, bill, junk mail, and then there is a card, the purple envelope foreign in with all of the neutral colors of the rest of the post. His name is printed neatly in Ella Ackles's perfect script and his stomach flutters.

He rips open the thick paper, pulling the heavy card stock free from its trapping and sees the invitation. Jensen is turning thirty in a couple of months and his wife has invited him and Jake to the surprise party. Jared tries not to let his mind wander too far, but he always loses.

Jensen's past birthdays are always bittersweet, painful reminders of the passage of time between a life they had together and a life where they are strangers masquerading as childhood best friends. He is sure that if either of their spouses knew what they actually meant to each other, it would kill both of them. They even tried to put miles and states between them, but it never worked.

The failed attempts to create space and distance flash before Jared's eyes and he lands on one memory that was supposed to be the last time.

_Jensen sits on the bed of his studio apartment, there are boxes stacked up and a mish-mash of storage totes and newspaper covered belongings yet to be put away. He has his head between his hands, hating himself a little more every time that he lets this happen._

_Jared is laying back against the pillows, having interrupted the other man's packing somewhere around three hours ago and now the room smells like sex and cigarette smoke; a cracked window blows through the drape-less windows, bringing with it the muted sounds of the street below._

_The older man scrubs a hand across his face, wiping at the moisture that he is sure is sweat and not tears before looking at the man lying in his bed. Biting his lip, he lets his fingers fondle the gold cross that rests on the long chain around his neck, it has always grounded him in the past, but right now it just reminds him of how wrong this is and how weak he is._

_Jared's brow is pensive, his own kaleidoscope eyes a stormy gray today as they search the other man's face. Jensen only bites his lip when he has something to say that he doesn't quite know how to get out. Well, there is another time he does it, but Jared doesn't want to think about that too much._

_Instead of putting distance between their bodies, like he knows he should, the older of the pair turns over on the bed and buries his face in the crook between the taller man's shoulder; that little groove that seems like it was made just for him._

_Jared wraps his arms around the strong muscles of his back, one hand finally resting in the short hairs at the nape of Jensen's neck. The cold metal of his chain a sharp contrast to the warmth of his golden skin._

_Jensen takes a deep breath, inhaling smoke, salt, and the mix of both of their aftershaves that have mingled together in the last few hours. It smells intoxicating, like home, safety, and sin all rolled in together and one of his favorite scents ever._

_Jared doesn't want to cry, he has promised himself that he won't, but there are tears running down his face. He guesses that is another promise that he couldn't keep, that he won't cry._

_He thinks of all the times that Jensen has walked away, or that he himself has. But this time the plane ticket tucked into his backpack means it's final._

_He can't help of think of that night so long ago when Jensen first kissed him. Two teenage boys who had never been with another boy, the way Jensen's barely stubbled upper lip had scraped across his own as they battled for control. Or how they had desperately clung to each other in the backseat of his brother's car, grinding and rocking against each other until they both came in their pants. As many times as Jensen tried to say that it didn't count, that they hadn't actually done anything since they were fully clothed, they both knew it was a lie._

_Now, the days and hundreds of times that this has happened since or the times that their lips have met, Jared can't make himself think about it being the last time. He knows that the other man is fighting against a lifetime of conditioning that says he shouldn't love another man and that what they have is wrong, but Jared knows that he will never be completely okay with it and that he can't do this in half measures._

_"What time is your flight?" Jared only asks because it is the only thing he can. He can't ask how many hours do we have left? Because that would break him._

_"Eleven-thirty," comes the reply, a quick calculation tells him that he has just over twenty-two hours until it is the last time. The last time that he will hold him in his arms, the last time he will kiss his lips, the last time that he can call him his. It is too much, so he just nods and holds the other man. Let's his arms make a memory of how it feels._

_Before the twenty-two hours is up, he will try his best to remember every curve, every freckle, every taste and every sound that the other man makes, because he knows it will be the last time._

He is yanked out of his musings by the car pulling into the drive and his son's high pitched squeal announcing his daddy's arrival. Jared folds the card up, tucks it in his back pocket, and pulls his shirt down over it. Then he hauls his chubby toddler out of the confines of the walker and starts down the drive.


End file.
